


Fire With Fire

by basilicux



Series: LMS AU [1]
Category: Fantastic Four (Movieverse), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU, F/M, Little Miss Stony, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:18:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basilicux/pseuds/basilicux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LMS AU: Johnny Storm seems to have found an interest in the Avenger daughter. Steve and Tony do not approve.</p><p>Update: Discontinued</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stepping on Sparks

**Author's Note:**

> Noveau is Emilee's other half/her mental self, who is kinda like Hollow Ichigo, but Noveau doesn't influence Emilee's real behavior. Also, Peter lives with Wade(Deadpool) and Emilee is 17, with her fire powers already.
> 
> … I know. I should be working on other stuff, and I shouldn't be making AU stories that shove massive spoilers but hey! If I do more of these, then I can get back into my groove and start returning! :D Also, reviews would help GREATLY... /shameless begging for reviews here/
> 
> If you haven't followed me here from FF.net, go semi-educate yourselves with the OCs and the story here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8341560/1/Little-Miss-Stony

FIRE WITH FIRE

 

ONE

 

STEPPING ON SPARKS

 

* * *

 

 

  An irritated sigh rushed from my lips as the Avengers alarm sounded, interrupting dinner. Again. For the third time that week. Not counting the time when the monster actually had the _audacity_ to break into the _Tower_ while I was still _cooking_.

 

“Daddy,” I groaned, “Do you _have_ to go? The city doesn't really need _all_ of you, does it?”

 

Tony wiped his hands on a napkin and stood from the table. He dropped a kiss on the top of my head as he moved to a more convenient place to call the suit from his bracelets. “Sorry, Princess,” he said, “But I can't guarantee that it's, like a three or four man job.”

 

  I turned the kicked puppy look to my father, catching his longsleeve. “Papa,” I whined. “ _Please_ stay for once?”

 

“I'm so sorry, Emilee,” Steve apologized, touching my hand and very gently prying my fingers off. “We have to go.” Without another word to me, Steve jogged down the hallway, shouting 'Avengers, assemble!', as if the obnoxiously loud alarm couldn't be heard. It was more than enough.

 

“Uncle Clint?” I tried, glancing up at the vent in the ceiling.

 

“Sorry, kiddo,” the archer's voice came. “Can't skip out today. Phil would pop a blood vessel or something. You can watch from the roof, or better yet, the top floor windows with binoculars.”

 

  The vent popped open, banging against the wall and a pair of binoculars dropped from it, dangling by a string. “Here, Em,” Clint said. “A prototype of your dad's. SHIELD issued is shit.”

 

“Thanks,” I sighed, watching the lightweight metal drop onto the white linen. The alarm stopped and the vent panel slammed shut. Alone, again, with cold spaghetti and annoyance bubbling into anger.

 

“Fuck!” I shoved my chair back. It hit the floor firmly. Grabbing the linen tablecloth and giving it a hard yank, all the food, dishes, and silverware clattered to the floor. The table itself followed suit, the damn thing, being made of double reenforced steel, refusing to break in any way. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

 

  I stared at the mess, sliding one hand to my hip and burying a hand in my hair. Turning to the floor to ceiling windows, I watched the battle against a purple jello monster. I sighed. I seemed to be doing that a lot since I moved to New York.

 

“The roof seems nice right about now.”

 

* * *

 

 

  I'd done this a few times before already - minus the binoculars, though. Ride up the service elevator. Punch – almost literally – the private code into the glowing, white pad. Go through hand and retina scans. Get onto roof. Take leather pack from a secret hiding place and strap gun holsters to hip, thigh, ankle, and shove a gun into a boot. Lean against the glass casually and watch another battle.

 

Routines for the Avenger-family-less times were sorted into a file and stored into a bin. I wasn't happy about it.

 

  But today, it was a little different. As I gazed through the binoculars, I spotted something red flying a in the – rather comparatively near – distance. With a couple adjustments, I confirmed it wasn't Tony, but something else. Red, orange, yellow. And it was coming closer.

 

“Oh, please tell me this isn't an ally of the jello.”

 

  The figure came closer and stepped onto the rail-less catwalk. The flames extinguished into a figure. I pushed off from extending ledge to my feet. Standing before me, in a blue spandex _(Of course it'd be_ _ **spandex**_ , Noveau rolled her eyes) bodysuit with dark gray trim, was a handsome man.

 

  _He could be Pops's twin_ , I thought. The differences weren't too far. Short cropped dirty blonde hair, eyes just a couple shades darker than Steve's. The largest difference was the flirty smirk and the mischievous glint in those familiar yet oh so foreign eyes.

 

“Who are you?” I asked warily. I'd met Loki a few times, two times before he was even my 'Uncle', and even now I wasn't convinced that this wasn't an illusion. Or worse yet, a pawn.

 

“Johnny Storm,” the man grinned. He stepped forward, and my hand flew to my hip instinctively. His mouth turned down into a playful pout. “Aw, that's disappointing. I'm just trying to be nice. Y'know, I thought that you'd want to meet the one and only Human Torch. I'd like to spend some time with a pretty girl.” He took a few more steps until he was into my bubble, AKA a foot away from me.

 

  I narrowed my eyes. My hands felt warm as they vibrated faster around the cold metal of the gun I pulled out. “Uh huh,” I said disbelievingly. I raised the gun and cocked it, pointing it at his abdomen and steadying it with my other hand. “I'd love to chat, really, but I'm compelled to shoot you either in the nuts or the shoulder, and I really doubt you'd enjoy either one.”

 

Johnny's pout became more flirty, and I bit the inside of my cheek. Wow, this guy was _attractive_. “Aw, don't be like that,” he chuckled. I stared at the hand extended to me.“Can't we be civil here? I haven't wronged you, have I now?”

 

  I frowned and lowered my gun, clicking the safety on and returning it to my hip holster. My gaze flicked from the hand to his now grinning face. I had barely raised my own hand before it was enveloped by a warm grip. I stared down at the gloved hand with my head tilted to the side.

 

“No,” I said slowly, “But I do have the feeling you're a playboy.”

 

Johnny made a mock-offended noise and put his other hand over his heart. “Ouch,” he said. “That kinda hurt.”

 

  I rolled my eyes. “What'll it take for you to just leave me alone already?”

 

  He tapped his cheek. “One right here.”

 

“Okay fi – WO – Mmph!”

 

Instead of letting me give him a chaste kiss on the cheek, Johnny Storm used the grip on my hand to tug me forward and give me what Noveau would call a 'proper kiss', complete with nipping and sucking.

 

Johnny's lips moved against mine, his hand letting go and snaking around my waist and pull me closer. I gasped, and his tongue slipped into my mouth. Blood rushed to my cheeks, heating them as I could feel our bodies vibrate at the same level. I doubted that Johnny could feel it.

 

  A throat cleared behind us and Storm very slowly removed myself from my person, a bright blush dominating my dazed expression. Storm looked rather satisfied and smug with himself.

 

  Dad walked down the catwalk, mechanical arms removing his Iron Man armor. Pops was following right behind him with a scowl etched onto his features, cowl thrown back and gripping his shield tight enough that it looked like he'd like to tear Storm's head off with it.

 

 

“Storm,” Tony grit out, “What the fuck are you doing to my daughter?”

 

“Oh, this is your daughter, Stark?” Storm smirked, raising a brow. “Never thought it was possible.” He nodded in greeting to Steve. “Hey, Cap, sure missed your bright, smiling face.”

 

Pops nodded back stiffly but said nothing.

 

“Well, I'd better get going,” Storm chirped. “Sue should be waiting for me.”

 

“You're not going anywhere,” I murmured, still dazed. “You're staying right here in the Tower's conference room because the rest of you are probably going to show up sometime soon and you all are going to debrief and if you even _think_ about skipping out all dandy and on fire I will track you down and have my scientist experiment the spunk out of you.”

 

Storm leaned in close, his breath ghosting over my lips again. “Oh, the _spunk_ out of me?”

“Step away from our daughter, Matchstick,” Dad ordered. “Or I'm calling Natasha.”

 

Storm obediently stepped away. Now with my thoughts gathered, I registered the presence of Steve behind me. A red-gloved hand gripped my shoulder firmly.

 

  I sighed. “I suppose this wouldn't be the best time to tell you I didn't clean up the mess consisting of spaghetti, breadsticks, dishes, and silverware.”

 

  The three men turned their full attention on me, my fathers with unreadable expressions, and Storm with an amused smile.

 

  I rolled my eyes to the starless sky. “You know, maybe we should all get the fuck inside so I can just made more food for everyone.”

 

* * *

 

 

“...”

 

  “I swear, this isn't what it looks like.”

 

“Oh, it's exactly what it looks like.”

 

“This is a Loki illusion.”

 

“Uncle Clint, not even. I will kick your birdy ass.”

 

  “I swear we weren't trying to.”

 

  The kitchen was a mess. Half cooked pasta was strewn around the chrome, granite, and plexiglass, marinara sauce splattered the walls. I raised a brow and gestured. “Then what...?”

 

Natasha, the cleanest of them all(aside from a couple jelly blobs), sauntered in. “They didn't think that they'd have to feed eight normal mouths and three people who eat like a camel that hasn't seen water in a week drinks.”

 

  I shook my head. “Fair enough. Just don't make too much of a mess, I beg you.”

 

* * *

 

Two Hours Later

* * *

 

 

“Well, this is nice.”

 

I glared at Johnny from my perch in a nook Clint allowed me to have near the ceiling. “Extinguish your flames, Ember.”

 

Clint snorted and shoved another bite of pasta into his mouth. He was sitting in a bigger vent opening, legs dangling.

 

After the debrief, the rest of the Fantastic Four(whee, more supers) went to wherever the hell they go, Natasha retreated to her room and Bruce went down to his lab. However, Storm decided to stay, Thor thought it'd be 'fun' to join in, and Clint was just there for the rest of the food.

 

Dad and Pops however... Weren't even eating. They were boring death-glare holes into Storm's apparently oblivious head.

 

I tossed my plate like a Frisbee down to Pops, who caught it without looking, and dropped down to the floor, scrabbling at the tiny hand- and foot-holds in the wall. “I'm going to my room.”

 

Immediately, Storm stood, offering a charming smile. “I'll come with you.”

 

Despite my parents' concrete 'NO', Storm refused to waver. I frowned. “Alright, fine, whatever, you child,” I said. The Human  
Torch's eyes lit up(in a completely non-literal sense) and he found his way to my side with an arm around my shoulders – not my waist; I was too short - so fast it was like a magnet. “But try any funny business and your 'equipment' is as good as gone. Auntie Natasha taught me well.”

 

As we started up the stairs, Thor boomed, “MAY YOUR EFFORTS BE FRUITFUL!” which totally didn't help the situation at all.

 

My bedroom was a quieter escape, and I was so done with the whole ordeal that I didn't even care anymore that Johnny made himself at home on top of my sheets. I lay down beside him, with my back to him and head half-pillowed by my real pillow and his arm.

 

We stayed like that for a few minutes before Johnny began to prod at my side. “Hey... Hey, kid.”

 

“It's Emilee, Storm.”

 

Johnny chuckled behind me. “Emilee Storm, huh? The reaction from Cap and Iron Man would be something to die for, wouldn't it?”

 

“Oh, _do_ shut up. What do you want, since you're obviously not going to leave?”

 

“Can we cuddle?” Storm asked. Nope. No hesitance toward the girl he just met a few hours before and didn't know a thing of.

 

My fingers twitched individually; a way of my brain calming my body down. Not that it really needed it aside from fighting the urge to spontaneously light. I didn't really have bounds for hugging and cuddling, as long as it didn't extent to kissing(HAH.) and sex and the person was attractive(I know, totally not materialistic of me, right?).

 

“Sure, why not?” I sighed, eyes still closed. “It's not like you haven't kissed me already.”

 

Storm shifted onto his side, pressing up against me and nuzzling into my neck. “I'm sorry,” he murmured. “It wasn't your first, was it?”

 

I leaned into his hold, flowing with the drowsy warmth of his body and the slow tangle of his fingers into mine. “Nope. It isn't normal, though, to kiss supposedly pretty girls on what is basically a whim.”

 

“Mm. Never stopped me.”

 

“And that's gotten you where? Without a girlfriend?” I snorted. “Go to sleep, Storm.”

 

“Don't you wanna see more of what's under this suit?” he purred. “See how far you get before you get hot under the collar?” Storm nudged one of his legs between mine and I yawned.

 

“I was the unofficial medic of the Avengers for about three years,” I informed him. “I've seen it all.”

 

Storm laughed softly and tightened his hold around my waist, tracing abstract patterns on my longsleeve shirt. “Oh, but you've never seen _mine_.”

 

I just shrink into his warm embrace. “Just go to sleep Storm.”

 

We're no more than strangers in a bed,  and I find that I really don't care. Johnny Storm's flirtatious attitude and easy smile may just fill a hole in my heart that I didn't have the courage to fill.


	2. Rising Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Johnny has high potential and Emilee has experienced these feelings before.

  “Hey... Wake up.”

 

  I groaned and threw an arm over my eyes as bright sunlight streamed onto my face. “What the - ”

 

  “Get up. Both of you.”

 

  Even the attempt of sitting up was difficult with two muscular arms still locked around my waist. I placed my hands on the dark gloves and shook them. “Storm. Johnny, wake up.”

 

  Storm, who had slid down a bit sometime during the night, burrowed his face into my lower back. “Mm, can't we sleep for a little bit longer? It's so comfy...”

 

  “No,” Steve growled. “Get off the bed and away from my daughter, Storm.”

 

  I somehow pried the gloved arms off, blinking the sleep out of my eyes. A quick glance around the room identified Tony glaring from the doorway and holding a StarkPhone to his ear, my glasses had found their way to the floor, and... Peter was standing in the hallway?

 

  “Pops, is that Peter?” I croaked, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and hopping off to retrieve my glasses. “I didn't think that he was coming by to visit this week.”

 

  Steve crossed his arms and shifted his weight to his other leg. “Yes, well, we didn't think that _he_ was going to stay overnight.” He nodded at Johnny, who was sitting up and smiling sleepily.

 

  I turned back to Steve. “Pops, we didn't do anything,” I assured him, padding to the lean against the wall by the bathroom. “Honest.”

 

“That's because JARVIS wouldn't let you do anything in the first place,” Tony said, words clipped. He switched the phone to his other hand. “He would've alerted us if you tried.”

 

  The sun was already well up, reaching to be skewered on the rods on the tops of the skyscrapers. I watched it ever so slowly inch up as I began to pull my shirt over my head.

 

Tony glanced at me. “Emilee, change in the bathroom.”

 

  I frowned. “I don't care if he - ”

 

“Yeah, well, I do,” Tony snapped. “Go.”

 

Rolling my eyes, I retrieved a pair of worn bootcut jeans and a Doctor Who graphic tee. “Sure, whatever.” When I stopped to look back, they were all watching me. I made a shooing motion with my hand. “Go on,” I prodded. “You can interrogate the hell out of him now.”

 

Tony frowned and stared at Steve's double. “Come on Storm. Follow me and don't touch anything.”

 

Storm sent me a wink and a grin. Steve yanked him out of the room by his wrist, like a naughty child. “See you later, Princess.”

 

  I shook my head and snapped my fingers once the doors were closed, hearing the water turn on and watching as steam fogged the mirrors. “JARVIS, you can project onto the wall, right?”

 

“Yes, Mistress Emilee. Do you wish for me to present a hologram of Master Stark's laboratory for you?” the cool British accent asked politely.

 

“Oh, JARVIS, you're amazing. Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

 

“No, Mistress Emilee, but you have voiced similar variations.” A small panel in the wall opened and a black camera lens flickered to throw a blue hologram of Dad's lab onto the opposite wall. Distantly, I wondered when a camera had been installed in a corner of the ceiling.

 

“ _So,_ ” the hologram of Storm began, swinging his legs as he sat on one of Dad's workbenches. “ _You wanted to talk_?”

 

Tony glowered at him from across the room, never leaving his form. Steve leaned against the wall by the door, arms crossed and disapproving frown set firmly in place. “ _Oh, we'll do more than just talk, Storm._ ”

 

  “ _We want you to stay away from our daughter,_ ” Tony growled.

 

“ _Yeah, I think you established that several times now._ ”

 

Steve's eyes narrowed. “ _We mean it. Stop touching her, stop talking to her, stop looking at her. Do you understand?_ ”

 

“ _I dunno, Cap,_ ” Johnny said with a grin. “ _She's pretty damn cute and it's hard not to look at her._ ”

 

Dad's nostrils flared and his eyes flashed. He took a step forward, and the grip around the screwdriver in his hand tightened. “ _I swear, if you so much as_ think _about her_ -”

 

“ _I know, I know. You'll sic Natasha on me and mutilate my reproductive system_ ,” Storm chirped cheerfully. “ _I think you said that one before, too._ ”

 

I grimaced. “I'm done here. Thanks, J.”

 

The hologram flickered and stopped. “Any time, Mistress Emilee.”

 

I stepped into the shower, shaking my head. “One more thing,” I said. “I have school today, don't I?”

 

“Affirmative, Mistress Emilee. You are also two and a half hours late.”

 

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Of course it is.”

 

* * *

 

 

Twenty-five minutes later and I was showered, dressed, and equipped with my messenger. The campus grounds were deserted and quiet, with the faintest sounds of football practice in the field about a quarter into the field. My Doc Martens tapped lightly against the blacktop courtyard, a breeze blowing through the trees.

 

The bell suddenly rang and I darted to the nearest tree like Uncle Clint had instructed me the first mission I'd gone with him on. I watched as starving students flooded the courtyard, flowing in the imaginary current like a school of fish.

 

I pulled out my phone and separated the case in two, cradling the bare phone in my lap. Taking off the duct taped tracking chip from the inside one half of the case, I crushed it in my fist, scowling when my concentration wouldn't make it combust.

 

“Y'know, if you glare at it any harder, you'll probably end up making it catch fire.”

 

I refused to look behind me, instead, gripping the broken pieces harder. “How did you find me?”

 

The blonde leaped into my field of vision, perching himself on a branch. “Peter said you had school.”

 

“Peter?” I glanced at Johnny, who had shifted so he was laying across a small net of weaving branches. “He told you?”

 

He shrugged. “More like traded me.”

 

“For?”

 

“He told me where you would most likely be and the address in exchange for three favors, with small lines of limitation.”

 

I quirked a brow. “And you're just going to give them to him?”

 

Johnny shrugged. “Eh. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, right?” He chuckled and leaned close to me, his breath ghosting on my cheek. “Besides, it's a small price to pay to find you.”

 

I blushed and firmly placed a hand on his face to push him away. “Oh, shut up, you crazy stalker.”

 

“Aw, you love me anyway,” he teased, moving my hand to pinch my cheek. “You'll never get tired of me.”

 

“I will never get tired of seeing you get chewed out by my parents in every way possible,” I grumbled, taking a snap at his fingers with my teeth. “Will you – stop touching me!”

 

“But you're so cute, like a wittle puppy,” Johnny cooed. He reclined on his branches again and pillowed his head with his arms, staring up through the leaves at the blue-gray sky. “I have a question of my own,” he said. “Why aren't you in class?”

 

I shrugged and turned my body to grind the tracking chip into the tree. “Uh, because I don't really need to be?” I said. “Why are you here, with me?”

 

“Must there be a reason?”

 

I don't say anything, but I think, 'Yes, you should.' and join him in staring at the blue spots of the sky.

 

* * *

 

 

Somehow, in the half hour left of fourth period, Storm had convinced me(or had he conned me?) to leave the school and go have lunch with him. The fact of having nothing important that day, teamed with the unwillingness to go through unnecessary class periods and the ghost of curiosity tugging at my hand, probably tipped me into going.

 

Yeah. Let's go with that.

 

He called a cab and led me to the edge of the campus, pulling be down to sit with him on the curb and wait for the taxi.

 

“Just to make it clear,” I said, “This isn't a date, okay? So don't make any assumptions.”

 

Johnny grinned at me, a wide pull at the corners of his lips that showed his teeth and made his eyes crinkle at the edges, and I found myself staring. Just for a second. I forced my gaze to the tar road. “I never made any,” he said, bumping his shoulder against mine.

 

I edged away slightly, rolling my eyes with maybe a little too much emphasis. “Oh, sure, Storm,” I scoffed. And I definitely ignored the way his hand twitched closer to mine on the curb ledge. “Like I'll believe that.”

 

The taxi pulled up and we slid in; I sat on the left side, Johnny on the right. Johnny rattled of an address and we were off. I leaned against the door, staring at the view of the water on my side of the road.

 

We were sitting in silence for a while, and I was aware that I no longer was really taking in the oceanic view. My vision sort of blurred, becoming bleary and unfocused.

 

As the taxi slowed, Johnny reached over to tap my shoulder. “Hey,” he said, “We're here.”

 

I turned my head to look at him, smiling fondly at my drowsiness. Without thinking, I held my arms out and made little grabbing motions. “Carry.”

 

Johnny chuckled and slung my bag over his shoulder. He pulled a few bills out of his pocket and passed them to the driver, before taking my hand and tugging me to the edge of the seat. I was hoisted up and carried bridal style, my face blocked with his shoulder.

 

_**He smells really good**_ , Noveau sighed, prancing around my mind with a giddy expression. _**Seems to be quite the gentleman, too.**_

 

_Whatever._

 

“I think I can walk now,” I mumbled into his neck. He chuckled.

 

“Why, Princess?” he asked. “Feeling a little shy?”

 

I brought one arm up to lightly thump the back of his head. “As if, loser.” I swung my legs down to the ground, grabbing his wrist for support. But when I tried to step forward, his hand caught mine.

 

That silly grin was still in place when I glanced back. My own lips twitched at the corners; something I'd picked up from my dad.

 

“Gotta keep up your end of the deal!” he chirped.

 

“I seriously don't remember making any sort of deal with you, Storm,” I snorted.

 

“I take you to lunch, you pretend to be my girl to freak your parents.”

 

I rolled my eyes and began to drag him to the only building anywhere in sight. “That,” I said, “Was totally not agreed on and or discussed at all, but sure.”

 

The little building was more of a house, but with a more quaint air about it. A white-painted wooden sign hung over the doorway, labeling it as 'Nicole's Cafe' in cotton candy blue and pink lettering. The door had a cute little bell hanging from a braided technicolor rope.

 

Inside, a gorgeous college-aged girl in a dark green shirt with the cafe's name and her own – Jane – over a black apron and skinny jeans. She had mocha skin, piercing green eyes, and Amazonian legs.

 

She grinned at us with toothpaste-commercial white teeth and leaned in to give Johnny a kiss on the cheek. “How's it going, baby?” she chuckled. “Haven't seen you in a while.”

 

“Eh, you know how it goes,” Storm smiled.

 

Jane turned her attention to me and her grin curled into a more mischievous one. “Ooh, and who's this? She your girl, Storm?”

 

I could feel my cheeks pinken as I stuck my hand out. “Emilee Stony,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”

 

Ignoring my hand, Jane pulled me into a hug. “Nice to meet you too!” she laughed. Such bubbly people. Everywhere. I wasn't used to it. At least, not here.

 

“Let's get you two lovebirds seated,” she giggled.

 

My eyes widened. “Oh, no, we're not - ”

 

“It's okay, sugar, I promise not to gossip.” My blush deepened. “Too much.”

 

“Jane,” Johnny mock-chided. “You're embarrassing her!”

 

The two laughed together as we sat down in a booth, before Jane told us she had to announce our arrival.

 

“Why not her?” I asked quietly, eyes flitting around the cafe. It was cozy, with a long L-shaped counter and a little lounge of loveseats and beanbags surrounded by bookshelves.

 

Johnny glanced up. “Hm?”

 

“Why aren't you with her?” I repeated. “She's really pretty. Dark skin, bright eyes, long legs, ample chest – isn't that what guys are always fantasizing of?”

 

“Well, I'm really only having you pretend to be my girlfriend to freak out your parents,” he said breezily.

 

A painful twinge wove through my chest, and I grit my teeth. _No_ , I growled to myself, _You will not fucking fall in love with him. You barely even know him, and have absolutely no reason to love him._

 

“Right.”

 

We sat in silence for a few minutes, me surveying the rest of the cafe, and Johnny fiddling with his phone until Jane came back.

 

“Are you guys ready to order?” she asked. Johnny reached over to tap my hand, which was resting on the table, and I inwardly grimaced when my fingers twitched away in an ingrained flinch.

 

“You order,” I told him hurriedly. He frowned, but nodded.

 

“My usual for the both of us. Hey, Emilee,” Johnny said, “Do you want juice or what?”

 

I looked up at Jane, who was smiling pleasantly. “Can you make a double chocolate mocha crème frappucino?”

 

“Of course, honey.”

 

She pranced off back toward the counter and I exhaled deeply, trying to get air back in my lungs.

 

Storm's hand covered mine, and this time, there was no where to move it. “Hey, you okay?” he murmured, intense blue eyes searching mine. “You can tell me if you want. I can keep a secret.”

 

I shook my head and tried to pull my hand out from under his. “I'm fine,” I insisted. “Nothing to tell. Just a little cold.”

 

Johnny pulled off his sweatshirt and tossed it over to me. “Put this on, then,” he ordered. “I don't want you to be cold.”

 

“I'm fine,” I said. “It'll be gone in a bit, most probably.”

 

His eyes narrowed. “No. Put it on, Emilee.”

 

“I don't really need it.”

 

“Put. It. On.”

 

I crossed my arms over my chest and Storm let out a breath of exasperation. “Why won't you just accept it?”

 

“Because - ”

 

“Here you two are,” Jane interrupted, placing a tall glass in front of me and a mug of steaming coffee in front of Johnny. “Your food will be here momentarily.”

 

Johnny grinned up at Jane appreciatively, and I resisted the flight instinct. “Thanks, Jane.”

 

_**That smile should be for us.** _

 

_Stop being so irrational,_ I sighed. Noveau snorted.

 

_**You know you want it to be**_.

 

_This is suffocating and fake. You know how I feel abut that._

 

_**You want it to be real.** _

 

“Y'know what,” I blurted, “I think I need some air. Excuse me.”

 

I shoved the sweatshirt back over the table and I was through the door and reaching for the cigarettes in my back pocket before Johnny could even say 'wait'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very far into this, considering my procrastination, but is anyone willing to beta?


	3. Seeing Stars - Or Nothing At all

  I found a place to sit in a nearby tree, pulling out the cigarettes and sticking one between my lips. I cupping my hands around the cig, I fisted my hand as if holding a lighter, a flame licking from my thumb to the end of the joint. Smoke curled into the chilly air as I breathed, eyes closing in bliss.

 

  “Smoking isn't good for you, y'know.”

 

  I cracked one eye open to see Peter leaning against a leafless tree. “And you're here why?” I rasped.

 

  He shook his head and held up what looked to be a contract of sorts. “Storm forgot to sign for his three favors.”

 

  I rolled my eyes and took another heavy drag. “Mhmm, sure. And you totally not here because Pops and Dad thought I needed someone to spy on us?”

 

  Peter shrugged and made a teetering 50-50 gesture with one hand. “Kinda.”

 

  “There's no 'kinda' involving my freedom and our parents, Pete,” I snorted. Wisps of smoke curled around the rims of my glasses, descending into the air in abstract shapes and forms.

 

  “You're half right,” he said. “We get some leeway.”

 

  “Sure,” I drawled, “If you count going to school with minimal tracking leeway.”

 

  Peter chuckled and pushed off from his tree to climb up into mine. “Shouldn't you get back to your date?” he asked.

 

  I rolled my eyes and took a long pull from my cigarette just to blow the smoke into his face, watching as he grimaced and waved it away. “After I'm done,” I said. “It isn't even a real date, if one at all.”

 

  The noise I made was indignant as Peter plucked the cancer stick from my fingers and ground it against the tree. “No. Stop smoking and go. The poor guy must think you completely hate him.”

 

  I pursed my lips. “I don't _hate_ him, it's just...” Peter glanced at me expectantly. “I don't know. He's not the kind of person I should be around. He's egotistical, flirty, shameless - ”

 

“Okay, okay, I get it, you have mixed feelings. Now go before I erase the hard drive on your computer.”

 

  I scrambled to get down. “I'll call you later!” I shot over my shoulder, jogging back to the cafe. Date or no date, I wasn't going to let him touch my baby.

 

* * *

 

 

  I slipped back into the booth, biting my bottom lip and trying not to breathe too heavily. Our food, delicious - looking plates of cinnamon-sugar French toast with fruit – was sitting on the table, untouched.

 

Johnny said nothing about my disappearance, but he frowned. “Do you smell cigarette smoke?” he asked.

 

  I pretended to sniff the air. “Nah. Must be another customer?”

 

“No, I don't think so,” he said. “Was anyone smoking outside?”

 

_Yes_. “No.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Pretty sure.”

 

Johnny gave me a look and I shuddered. It was the exact look that Pops would give me when he felt I was lying. “Okay,” he said. “You wanna start eating?”

 

  I nodded and picked up my fork, digging in. “Holy crap,” I said. My mouth was full and I nearly dropped my fork. “ _This is amazing_.”

 

Storm smiled down at his food, pleased. “Been coming here for at least three years and their food might possibly be getting better.”

 

“When was the first time you came here?” I asked.

 

  “It was after a mission,” he began, “And I fell from the sky on my way back home.” I winced in sympathy; I'd had my share of plummeting to the earth with particularly  hard impacts when I couldn't catch myself.

 

  I whistled. “Ouch.”

 

  “I landed about a quarter mile from here, right on the hood of Jane's truck as she was heading home at around two in the morning. Completely smashed it in.” My eyebrows rose in surprise. “Even though I totaled her car, she dragged me back to this cafe, took care of me, and called my sister. How she got Sue's number, she won't say.”

 

  I processed this and all that came out was “Wow.”

 

“And the only thing I really had to show for it was a broken arm and a sprained knee.”

 

 

  I shook my head in disbelief and leaned back, thinking back on all the injuries I'd sustained in my sixteen years. “Lucky boy, you are.”

 

“You could say that.”

 

  My gaze was cynical as I finally took a gulp of my frappacino. “Dude, you walked off with comparatively minor injuries. I fell off a garage roof in San Diego when I was nine and splintered two ribs, fractured my ulna, and snapped my radius in two places.” I giggled at the memory of my first night sneaking out. “It wasn't even my house.”

 

  “If I were to summarize your durability, I'd say that you are definitely unbreakable,” Johnny teased. “Twigs are pretty strong, right?”

 

  A muscle by my eye ticked and a tight smile twitched at my lips. It was a joke, and I knew it, but even now I was underestimated and I hated it. “Ah huh,” I sneered, “Because it's oh so funny, isn't it, to be always taken as a _stick_.” And, okay, maybe there was too much malice, but I was just so done.'

 

  I pulled out a couple bills from my pocket and slammed it down on the table, slinging my messenger back onto my shoulder and standing. ( _ **Over-dramatic much?**_ _Shut up._ ) “Thanks for bringing me here. I'll always have a great memory now,” I spat. I was vaguely aware of Jane's eyes on me, and Johnny's fruitless grasp for my wrist.

 

  It didn't matter. Old wounds were involuntarily opened and I really couldn't deal with it in public.

 

  _**Time to sulk and snap at everyone that comes into our room?**_

 

  _I am so prepared._

 

* * *

 

 

“Emilee?”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Ems, you in there?”

 

  I buried my face in my pillow. “Idunwahtahbouih.”

 

“... What?” Peter opened my door, padding in and closing it gingerly behind him.

 

  “I don't want to talk about it,” I repeated.

 

Peter took a seat on the edge of my bed. “You okay, sugar stick?”

 

  I shook my head. “I was stupid and left him at the cafe,” I groaned. “Even though there was that stupid rule that I'd never skip out on a date unless the guy was a total creeper.”

 

“And you made this rule when?”

 

  I blinked. “Last week, I think?” another loud groan and I buried my face in the pillow again. “This is so complicated and shouldn't even happen.”

 

Peter rubbed soothing circles between my shoulder-blades. “You wanna talk about it?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Is there a reason?”

 

  I closed my eyes, thinking of the swell of high feelings that accompanied surreal pictures of a forest and yellow-white sunlight streaming through the leaves and branches. “Maybe.”

 

Peter hummed thoughtfully and ran a hand through my hair, and in a quieter voice, asked, “Is it because he reminds you of Matt?”

 

Ouch. My eyes snapped open and I flinched away from Peter. “He's nothing like Mathias,” I whispered, staring at my brother with a wide gaze. “Why would you say that?”

 

“Because I went to California the other day,” Peter started slowly, “And I met him. It's also one of the reasons I came home early.”

 

“Do I really want to hear this?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

  I detached myself from Peter and scooted closer to the foot of the bed to stare out over the city as the sun began to sink below the skyscrapers and reflect blindingly. “Then shoot.”

 

Peter sighed heavily. “Well, for starters, he said he got into the National Honor Society.” That almost made me smile; Matt was notorious for getting poor grades - and nearly getting booted off the football team once in junior high – because he never turned his assignments in on time. “He also told me he has a girlfriend.”

 

And my heart shattered. But it wasn't like I didn't know that my love for him was going to be fruitless, anyway. For a long time, I'd known. No matter how long, it'd always hurt.

 

“Oh.” The word came out forced and small. “I see.”

 

Neither of us said anything for a while, until the sun was low enough to only cast the thinnest of bands of hazy orange to border the New York skyline.

 

“Are you okay?” Peter asked cautiously.

 

  I stared at my bedsheets and traced over the lines at the top of Link's tunic. “Dunno,” I mumbled. “Not like I was tied to him or anything. He's free to do whatever he likes. I just want him to be happy.”

 

Running a hand through his hair, Peter blew out a tired breath. “You keep saying that, and it doesn't seem to be helping,” he told me.

 

  “I know.”

 

“You have to at least give Johnny a chance,” Peter pleaded. “You have to try.”

 

  I sighed loudly and nodded reluctantly. “Fine. I'll give him a chance, but no promises.”

 

Peter smiled and pulled me into a hug. “Thank you.”

 

“Uh huh. Can we make Nutella cookies?”

 

  My brother chucked. “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … Huh. I finished this fairly quickly. *throws arms in the air* HALLELUIAH!
> 
> lol my word counts are never the same


	4. Sitting in a Matchbox

FIRE WITH FIRE

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

SITTING IN A MATCHBOX

 

* * *

 

 

  I huffed out a breath and ran my fingers down the weaving of my side braid. Marissa, who had come over to consult my outfit, watched my from my desk chair.

 

  “Stop messing with it,” she ordered, unfolding her legs and swinging herself off the rolling chair. She pushed her ever-present aviators up into her scarlet hair and stepped into the bathroom, batting my hand away and fixing the clips and pins in my hair.

 

  “It's just kinda weird,” I told her, wrinkling my nose. “It's been years since I've braided my hair.” I picked at the back tank. “And are you sure I should wear this?”

 

  Marissa waved it off. “Don't worry about overexposure. You can use that camo jacket you got last year and those dogtags you're so fond of.”

 

  I pursed my lips and hooked my thumbs into the belt loops on my jeans, glancing at my friend as she opened her makeup pouch. “Are you sure it won't come off as trying too hard?”

 

  She quirked a brow and looked up, placing a hand on the swell of her hip. “Honey, have you realized how many times you've worn this exact outfit?” she deadpanned. “Besides, I thought you didn't care about this Johnny guy. Not caring entails not giving a shit how you look.”

 

  A blush made its way up my cheeks. “I don't, it's just - ” My mouth snapped shut at the unimpressed look Marissa sent me. “Okay. Shutting up and allowing myself to become your doll.”

 

  Marissa snorted and grabbed an eyeliner pen. “Good. Now turn your head.”

 

* * *

 

 

  I shivered in front of the mom-and-pop restaurant a couple blocks down from the Tower, checking my phone again for any missed calls or texts. I'd called him earlier, and, with much rambling, digressing, and several hits from Marissa, I'd asked him out on an apology date. “Dammit, Storm.”

 

  “Hey, firecracker,” Johnny said, a little bit breathless, his sneakers tapping on the sidewalk as he jogged up to me.

 

  “You're late,” I chattered. “I've been here for almost an hour.”

 

  Johnny winced. “Sorry,” he said. “But Sue wouldn't let me go until I promised not to accidentally set the Statue of Liberty's torch on fire. Again.”

 

  I managed to quirk a brow in my frozen state. “That wasn't a rumor?”

 

  “Unfortunately, no. Lighter fluid and setting myself alight.” Johnny glanced up at the little hole-in-the-wall. “Should we get inside?”

 

  I sneezed. “Please.”

 

  We hustled into the toasty restaurant, Johnny slipping his thicker jacket off and wrapping it around me. I didn't protest and instead sighed into it.

 

  “So how'd you find this place, anyway?” he asked. I shrugged.

 

  “I was craving really good, cheesy lasagna, and one of my friends took me here,” I shrugged, burrowing into the warmth of his jacket. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. It smelled like his cologne and smoke – an appreciated mix. “The food here is amazing.”

 

  I opened my eyes when I heard the click of high heels coming toward us. “Hello,” a brunette with green eyes greeted, stepping behind the hostess's post. “Just you two today?”

 

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

 

  “Right this way.”

 

  I started after her, glancing behind me. “Hey - Come on, Storm.”

 

  He grinned and fell into step beside me, taking my hand. “Apology date, right?” There was only a split second of hesitation before relaxed and smiled lightly, the faintest blush mellowed by the soft, yellow lighting.

 

  “Uh, yeah.”

 

  “Here you go,” the hostess said with a flourish to one of the red upholstered booths. Two menus were placed onto the polished wooden table. “Your waiter will be with you shortly.”

 

  “Thanks.”

 

  Storm refused to let go of my hand, forcing me to sit next to him instead of across the table. I quirked a brow. “Happy?”

 

  “Very.”

 

  “Good, because this won't happen again for a long time, if ever again.”

 

  Storm's lips tilted into a frown. “Why not?”

 

  I snorted. “Uh, because - ”

 

  “Ha!” he crowed. “I knew you didn't have a reason!”

 

  I sent him a deadpan look. “Will you listen?”

 

  “Probably not.”

 

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “You're probably never going to get another date with me for a long time, if ever, because one, my dads will kick your ass, two, you're older than I am - ”

 

  “Not by much.”

 

  “ - and lastly, between academics, track and field, my personal science project, and a part-time job, I don't have much time to date anyone.”

 

  “We don't have to date,” Johnny said slowly, releasing his grip on my hand, as if beginning a compromise. My fingers twitched back toward his hand, and it was only from sheer concentration that I did not allow them to slip back into the warmth of his grip. “Just...”

 

  I stood from the booth and crossed over to the other bench. The pads of my fingers felt cold and itchy. I rubbed them against my denim covered thigh. “Spend time with each other?” Johnny nodded, and I shook my head in response. “I'm in my second semester of my senior year. I have so many projects due, and barely enough time to breathe. This make-up date took a massive reconstruction to my weekend schedule.” Alright, so that last one was a lie, but what other excuse would I make?

 

  “So I was an inconvenience?” he asked lowly. His down tilted head forced him to look up at my through thick lashes, and a glimmer of hurt and sadness could be seen under layers of teasing nonchalance.

 

  My eyes and mouth opened in shock. “Oh, no no no!” My hands flailed wildly in front of me. “I didn't mean it that way!”

 

  “Then how _did_ you mean it? A softer way of saying that I was in your way?”

 

  Oh, and here comes the guilt trip, guys. Hop on and brace yourselves.

 

  “Well, I – uh, what I was trying to convey was – just – ” I stammered, “ - I was trying to say that...” I inhaled deeply before continuing. “I like you, okay?” My next words caught in my throat. Did I just say that? I totally didn't mean to step onto _that_ particular road.

 

Johnny's eyes widened. “You – what?”

 

  I flushed. “Don't make me say it again!” I pleaded, leaning closer to avoid attention from other patrons.

 

  _**She didn't even mean it, cutie.**_

 

_Noveau, be quiet._

 

Johnny let out a shaky laugh as he leaned back. “You  - you _like_ me? You're not just pulling on my leg here?”

 

I rolled my eyes and leaned back as well, slumping down in my seat. “As much as I'm sure you'd enjoy me pulling on any part of your anatomy,” I quipped, “I'm not.”

 

_**What the hell are you spewing out here, Emilee?** _

 

I don't know _, okay? I'm trying to handle it!_

 

A silence settled and the itch in my hand returned.

 

_Say something, idiot!_

 

My skin almost tore off my body, I was so startled. Johnny had slammed his hands down on the table, earning curious glances and whispers from other people in the restaurant. I sent them back to their food and conversations with a round of glares.

 

“Well, in that case,” he said, in an awfully chipper voice that made me know that I'd go back to sulk over my 'Shoot now, ask later' disposition, “I'd like to take you out on a real date.”

 

I barely refrained from slamming my face into the tabletop and groaning. Noveau stuck her tongue out at me. “When? I have to be somewhere all of next week and the week after.”

 

“Then the first night you're open, call me,” Johnny shrugged. “No problem.”

 

I nodded and stared down at the fine grain in the tabletop. “Sure.”

 

The hour and a half we spent there passed slower than my time waiting for my first snowfall in New York(or anywhere, really). I scraped my finger nails on the table, nibbled at my salad, and glared at Johnny when he tried to replace my fifty in the checkbook with his credit card until he relented.

 

Outside, the chilly air cut into my jacket and stung my eyes. The overcast sky dimmed the sun, and the smell of incoming rain filled my nostrils. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, pressing my knuckles together.

 

“You alright?” Johnny asked, a few steps ahead of me. I cracked an eye open and noticed I had stopped completely in the middle of the sidewalk.

 

“Of course,” I responded. “Just like this kind of weather, is all.”

 

Johnny pursed his lips. “I've never really liked rain,” he said. “It's depressing.”

 

“It's cleansing and calming,” I countered.

 

He glanced at me through the corner of his eyes. “It causes car accidents.”

 

“It gives life.”

 

“It can help cause hypothermia.”

 

“Rain can also be warm, idiot. Ever heard of the Philippines?”

 

“There's also acid rain.”

 

“Touché.”

 

Warmth settled around my neck and arms from the exertion of walking. I pushed my sleeves up to my elbows, sighing contently when the cool air hit my forearms.

 

“What's that on your arm?”

 

I blinked up at the blonde superhero. “Huh?”

 

Johnny gestured to my arm. “The white stuff.”

 

As absurd as it sounded, I looked down, astonished to see my cutting scars again. I _did_ see them everyday, but on sunny days they were almost invisible, and on really cold days they were covered by sweatshirts or longsleeves. I struggled to keep a calm composure, slipping the stuffy sleeves back down. “Oh, it's nothing.”

 

Johnny's eyes narrowed, a hand reaching out for my wrist. I flinched as his cool skin touched a faded white line. “This obviously isn't nothing.”

 

I figited with my jacket cuff. “Well, it's nothing now. It's of my past. Something that I'd rather not remember, much less talk about. Now, it's either holding my or not touching me at all, what's your pick?”

 

He reluctantly intertwined our fingers, saying nothing more about the scars. “So when are you going to tell your folks we're dating?”

 

I pursed my lips. I didn't know what we were. I wanted to keep ties with Storm and yet I felt I'd be better off staying single. There was a certain comfort that he brought that I definitely needed, even if it'd be like using him. “I'm not,” I responded. “It'll be between us.”

 

“I'd really like it not to be.”

 

I turned my gaze to the clouds, exhaling a deep breath in a white puff. “All of us want things we can't have.”

 

“Well, I _can_ have you, can't I? Aren't I succeeding?”

 

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Yeah.”

 

It always feels good to be wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just tired, okay? Pushing this piece of shit out and not happy with it at all. I'll plan the next chapter better, though.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year of the Black Snake, guys! If you like it, drop a review!


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